


Lucifer in Starlight

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The devil comes to call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucifer in Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> Over on tumblr an anon asked for a fic with these three - and _not_ with Hive in Will's body - and I'd had this idea rolling around in my head so it seemed the perfect excuse.
> 
> The title is blatantly taken from a poem by George Meredith, which has really nothing to do with the fic except the title fit.

The sandstorm blows up suddenly, so strong and loud and consuming that in seconds Jemma can’t even hear Will calling her name over the wind. She holds the blanket full of seedpods close, a precious burden and a shield both, and tries to stumble her way back to the cave entrance. She knows where it was - only a few meters away, at two o’clock from where she’d been working to gather food - but there’s no telling how turned around she’s already gotten.

Strong hands catch her shoulders and she jumps, only to settle immediately.

“Will,” she breathes in relief. She can actually hear her voice; the storm is dying down.

The gloved hands move down her arms and she realizes she’s wrong in every way. The storm isn’t ending, she’s merely in the eye of it, and it’s not Will kneeling slowly beside her.

The grip It has on her is strong enough to bruise if she fights and she can only watch in horror as the dark visor of the helmet (worn by the elements and nothing at all like the carefully shined one they use as a mirror) leans closer to her stomach.

It’s too early for it, but she swears she can feel her child trying to curl away from the creature’s inspection.

Will emerges from the storm, machete raised, and before he can bring it down, the wind stops with a rushing like a wave as all that sand falls at once to the valley floor. The visor, still tilted towards Jemma, turns in Will’s direction as he hesitates.

_You need my help._

Jemma shudders and the hand tightens on her arm to keep her from trying to get away. It’s not a voice, it’s words poured straight into her head, and the violation of it makes her skin crawl.

“Let her go,” Will demands.

And, surprisingly, It does.

She stumbles first back several steps, more than even her fear deems necessary because otherwise she’ll fall over her own feet, and then takes a circuitous route until she’s standing half-behind Will. He takes her hand and it settles her nerves somewhat.

The creature stands slowly and, just when Jemma hopes they might be able to make a break for it, speaks again in that horrible way.

_And I need yours._

Jemma’s fingers curl deeper in her blanket, causing seeds to fall out in a light rain. Will’s hand tightens around hers. He has no more idea what to make of that than she does, but they both know it can’t possibly be good. “Go,” he says after a long beat. “Back to the caves, I’ll-”

She drops the blanket entirely to grab his arm, determined not to let him face this monster alone. Her furious “No!” overlaps with the creature’s and her grip on Will falters.

It holds out a hand towards them, as if to keep her from leaving. Slowly, the hand lowers. _Your child needs a home - food, shelter - it can have these things._

“It will,” Jemma says coldly. Her child won’t have so many of the things she wants for it, but it _will_ have a home with a mother and father who love it more than all the stars in the sky. That’s not nothing.

The helmet tips her way and Will pushes her farther behind him.

“What do you want?” he asks. “Fourteen years, this is the first time you and I’ve had a conversation when you weren’t pretending to be one of my friends you’d killed. You’ve gotta have a reason, so out with it.”

 _You._ It nods to Will. _And you._ And then to Jemma. _For ten thousand years I’ve been sent sacrifice after sacrifice. Men who worshiped me and were glad to die so I could live on to one day take the Earth._

Jemma had suspected, from Will’s description of what the creature did to his team, that it might need the bodies that have been coming through the portal for eons, but she hadn’t known it was hoping to find its own way through the way they came. She shudders at the thought of it ever endangering the human race, and Will pulls her a little closer to him. She thinks he’d like to wrap an arm around her shoulders - she’d certainly like him to herself - but it would put him at a disadvantage and so they’ll both have to be satisfied with mere proximity.

_But you have never heard of me, none of the team had. And you … they’ve never sent a woman before._

It’s on the tip of Jemma’s tongue to snap that no one _sent_ her, it was an _accident_ , but she wants to know where this is heading and suspects disabusing him of his misconception will end this conversation.

 _I believe_ , It thinks slowly, _that the human race has fallen too far to be saved and my people have given up hope of my ever returning to cleanse the Earth._ It pauses over that briefly and if she didn’t know any better she’d almost think it’s sorry to admit it. _And so they have gifted me with the means to start anew here._

Jemma shudders as much at its next words as at the smile she can feel in them.

_Adam and Eve._

Will’s hand tightens on the machete.

_I can give you Paradise._

“You think we’re gonna take anything you offer?” Will demands. “You’re worse than the snake.”

Jemma’s pride in him lasts only until the bone-rattling roll of laughter sounds in her head.

 _What can you offer?_ it counters. _What can you give your child save the hope that I’ll take it before it is forced to bury the both of you? I can give your child - your_ children _\- a future. You will be mother and father to a new race, one better than that you left behind._

“And how many of them will die so you can keep living?” she demands. It said so itself, it plans on taking this child from them one day.

 _How many will live for their sacrifice?_ it asks coolly and then points to where her hand presses against her stomach. _Including this one? You can’t tell me you’re not afraid it will die before it has the chance to live._

She is, deeply, but that doesn’t justify making deals with devils.

“You’ve made your pitch,” Will says, sounding tired, “now what’s your price?”

It shrugs its arms. _Your love. What is a god without worshipers?_ It says it like it’s simple. Jemma wants to laugh. Will actually does.

“You’re insane,” he says, “if you think for one _second_ we’re gonna trust you.”

The helmet tips to one side. _Understandable. But you_ will _change your minds._ It sounds so sure, so certain … Jemma doesn’t know what to make of that. _When you do, you have only to enter the No Fly Zone, and I will show you the way to Eden._

It turns its back on them and walks slowly out of the valley. Not until it’s long out of sight does the set of Will’s shoulder’s relax. His hand still in hers, he turns to her and she knows the question in his face is on hers as well.

Unfortunately neither of them has an answer for it. Nothing in her twenty-eight years has prepared her for this; she’s not sure anything _could_.

It could easily be lying to them, playing some twisted game with them, but can they risk refusing?

Can they risk accepting?

Will’s hand tightens around hers and he does his best to manage a smile. “Come on,” he says. They abandon the seed pods - neither of them are hungry, which is saying a great deal in circumstances such as theirs - and return to the caves for the night.

Perhaps the last night.

 


End file.
